


Brother of Mine

by phantisma



Series: Keeper Verse [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-29
Updated: 2008-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This follows <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/503555"><strong>The Tale of SamSam and his Ow-Butt</strong></a>, Dana is four.  Sam's a little upset with Dean, because Dean got hurt on a hunt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother of Mine

 

“You nearly got yourself killed.” Sam’s voice was dark and dangerous, his eyes glittered nearly black as he emerged from getting Dana to sleep.

Dean hung his head. “I’m fine Sam.”

Sam shook his head, stalking toward Dean. “No, you’re not. You are not fine. You’re could have been killed.”

“But I’m alive.” Dean held up his hands as Sam stopped in front of him. He was sore. He would hurt for a few days, but there was no major damage…none that couldn’t be spliced together with stitches and bandages anyway. He’d even conceded to go to the ER to have the work done because Sam had been so bent out of shape over it.

“You don’t ever go on a hunt alone.” Sam was leaning into his space now, his voice low, his face set. Anger and worry washed off of him in equal measure. His kiss was fierce, part needy, part demanding. “Never, you understand me?”

“Sam, I’m fine.” Dean tried again, but he already knew where this was going.

This wasn’t the uncertain, meek Sam who was trying to figure out his place in this family. This was the Sam who owned him, the Sam who took Dean places he’d never thought he’d go.

Dean looked up at his brother and surrendered. “You’re right Sam. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

It stopped him, softened the hardness on his face, made his kiss gentler. “I should punish you…would if you weren’t already hurt.”

“I’m sure there are ways you could punish me without hurting me.” Dean suggested softly.

Sam’s hand fisted in his shirt and pulled him to his feet. “Get naked.”

“What? Here?”

“Right the fuck here, Dean.”

“Just checking.” Dean started shucking his shirt, easing it past the bandages on his shoulder and his ribs. Damn poltergeist and damn knife collection. He winced a little, but hid it before Sam saw. He’d only get angry all over again, and the point of submission was to take him past angry to the point where there was sex and sleep.

Sam disappeared into the bedroom and when he came back it was with two of his favorite torment devices. Dean was already hard when Sam directed him to lie on the kitchen table. Sam snapped the cock ring on and Dean grunted. When he pushed the butt plug in with no lube or prep, Dean figured it was going to be a long night.

Sam arranged him on the table, arms at his side, so it didn’t strain his shoulder, hands tucked up under Dean’s ass, tilting his hip just a little. He bent Dean’s knees and put his feet flat on the table, then slowly pulled and positioned until he was spread open like a Christmas turkey prior to stuffing.

“Don’t you fucking move, you hear me?” The edge of anger was moving off and lust was starting to take it’s place.

“Not a muscle. Not a hair.” Dean said, watching in slight confusion as Sam disappeared again.

“Close your eyes.”

“Sam?”

“Do it.”

There was the demanding voice again. Dean closed his eyes and tried hard not to shift around on the table.

He shivered at the first touch…soft, feather-light, up the inside of his thigh. He almost opened his eyes, but he could feel Sam hovering. Nothing touched him but that…just the tiniest touch.

It breathed over tender skin to his knee, then down his shin to his toes. Then it was gone, reappearing at his uninjured shoulder, floating over his chest and pausing to circle his nipple until Dean shivered. It disappeared again.

When it floated over his cock, Dean jumped and Sam chuckled. The next touch was different, scratching, pointy…across his stomach.

“Mine, Dean.” Sam whispered, somewhere near his ear. “You remember?”

Dean licked his lips, nodding. “Yeah, Sam…I remember.”

“Mine.” This time it was on his face, over his ear.

“Fuck.” It shouldn’t be so goddamn arousing, but Dean was squirming.

Sam was chuckling as he switched on the vibration of the butt plug. “Settle in, brother of mine, I can do this for hours.”

Fingers now, over the bruise on his right thigh, tender at first, then pressing in until Dean was hissing. Then back to the light touch, ghosting over his balls, up his thigh. Scratching, poking into his navel. Dean was humping the air when it all went away.

He almost opened his eyes, but Sam was right there. “Open them and I stop.” He wasn’t touching Dean at all…but he was right there, hovering. “If I stop, you sleep alone tonight.”

Dean exhaled and nodded. “Closed, Sammy. Yours. Closed. Just…come on…”

Sam chuckled again. The feather whisked over his shoulder, his chest. “Begging already, Dean?”

“No…no…” Dean shook his head. Sam knew how to make him beg…beg for things he would never imagine. “Not yet Sammy…gonna have to work for it.” Although why Dean was egging him on when he was already pissed and working on what promised to be a marathon of teasing, he would never know.

In response, Sam turned up the vibrations on the butt plug and Dean involuntarily lifted his ass off his hands. Sam backed away again….far enough Dean couldn’t tell where he was.

Then he heard the refrigerator and braced himself for what came next. He expected full contact, not the slow drip that came though…ice melted in Sam’s big hands, dripping down over his cock. Dean bit his lip in an effort not to react.

Suddenly the butt plug was gone and in its place Sam was shoving that piece of ice inside him, then replacing the butt plug to hold it in. The vibrations hurled the ice around inside him and Dean’s hip thrust up, seeking warmth, seeking release…

“Mine, Dean.” Sam whispered again.

Dean nodded agreement, but couldn’t speak…and this was just the beginning.

 

Dean’s body was slicked with sweat, and various other bodily fluids and assorted things from the refrigerator, his thighs shaking with the effort to keep his legs where Sam wanted him.

Sam’s cock was deep inside him and Dean had lost track of how long they’d been here, like this. His cock was locked in Sam’s iron grip and fuck but it wasn’t going to matter in a minute if he had permission or if Sam took the cock ring off or moved his hand even a little, Dean was going to come.

“Mine Dean.” It had to have been the hundredth time he’d said it. Dean nodded wearily.

“Yours Sam…always…never scare you again. Never leave…never alone…Promise…promise…baby…please…”

Sam’s hand let go of him and his hips rocked them together. Dean came hard, his come flying toward the sink as Sam filled him and slowly eased out of him. His kiss this time was soft, gentle. “Shh…it’s okay. Open your eyes.”

Dean let Sam help him sit up, sat there like a child and let Sam wash him of the come and sweat and god only knew what else that smeared his body. Sam brought him a bottle of water and the pain pills the hospital had given him, watching as Dean dutifully took two and handed the water and pills back.

“Okay, brother of mine, let’s get you to bed.” Sam eased Dean down off the table.

“We should clean up.”

“My mess, I’ll clean it up.” Sam steered him down the hall to his room and to the bed. He could already feel the pain pills, and the long exertion after a long day, pulling him toward sleep.

Sam kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

But Dean didn’t even hear him leave the room, he was already asleep.

His next real awareness was of Sam sliding into bed behind him, pulling him in. “Morning.” Sam whispered.

“Already?”

“Dana’s been up for an hour. She made you breakfast.”

Dean groaned. At four years old, Dana’s idea of making breakfast was pretty messy. He sat up slowly and reached for the pair of boxers Sam had put on the bed. Sam helped him move his stiff body up and out of the bed and followed him down the hall.

Dana was sitting on the coffee table in the living room, with a plate of pancakes she was happily eating the centers out of. The kitchen wasn’t too bad though. He suspected Sam had helped more than usual.

“Dana, honey, why don’t you come eat with us?” Sam said.

She looked up and waved at Dean. “Kitchen smells funny SamSam.”

“Funny?” Dean sniffed but didn’t smell anything.

“Like when Sam goes away.” She turned back to the television and her gutting of her pancakes.

“Funny.” He hadn’t noticed it before, but there was the vague smell of sweat and sex in the room. “You didn’t clean up very well, brother of mine.” Dean said, dragging Sam to him and kissing him. “Maybe I should punish you.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe you should try.”

Dean grinned, then grimaced as his shoulder throbbed. “Maybe when the stitches come out.”


End file.
